Breaking Point
by Catmint
Summary: When Ziva disappears without a trace, the team have to pull out all the stops, including travelling to the other side of the world, to try to locate and rescue her in time. Is it Somalia all over again?
1. Missing

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, making no money from this.

Though this is far from my first foray into fanfic (I've been registered on for the best part of 10 years!) this is my first foray into NCIS fanfic. Set sometime late season 9.

**Dedication: **For my unofficial sister, Katharina Rayner, who I originally met through and who got me hooked on NCIS in the last few months.

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Chapter 1: Missing

Putting her key into the door of her apartment, NCIS special agent Ziva David groaned. The couple next door were having another burning – no, _blazing_, corrected her partner's voice in her head – row. It was loud enough that she could hear what it was about: he'd left the dirty plates and cutlery in the sink. _So much for a quiet night_, she thought resignedly as she stepped into her apartment and closed the door. She was exhausted. And hungry – DiNozzo's idea to try the new "exotic foods" takeaway hadn't gone down well with her tastebuds.

Next door the row was getting louder. It masked the faint sound that normally Ziva would have heard. She put her hand on the back of the armchair – a present from Ducky after her old apartment had been blown up – where she liked to curl up with a book and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She didn't notice the shadow that fell over her or hear the footstep a moment before a hand was slapped over her mouth, a chemical-sodden handkerchief over the hand. Her eyes flew open as the hand pressed harder and its owner put his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She briefly attempted to struggle, but whatever was on the handkerchief was fast-acting and she was overwhelmed, crumpling to the floor as she lost consciousness.

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NCIS special agent Tony DiNozzo strolled into the NCIS building, coffee in one hand as he removed his designer sunglasses with the other. He still didn't understand how McGee could be so chipper at this time of day.

He glanced at his watch – and swore. He would be in for a head-slap if he mistimed his arrival. Taking a hasty swig of coffee, he noted the group waiting outside the lift and opted for the stairs, rushing into the bullpen but attempting to do so in as casual a manner as he could manage. He breathed a sigh of relief: no Gibbs.

"You're safe," McGee called from his desk. "Gibbs is down with Abby – she's got a possible ID on the break-ins." He paused, frowning. "I can't remember the last time you got here before Ziva."

Tony blinked in surprise and glanced over at Ziva's desk. Sure enough, it was exactly how it had been when Gibbs had ordered the Israeli home to get some sleep the previous evening. He smirked. "Looks like she's the one who gets a head-slap instead of me for once – ow!" His hand flew to the back of his head, which had just received a firm smack. "Boss! What was that for?"

"You're four and a half minutes late, DiNozzo," came Gibbs' voice from behind him.

"But Ziva's not even here yet!" protested Tony, turning to face his boss.

"She'll get a slap as well, when she shows up," replied Gibbs. "Just because you're here before her, it doesn't make you not late."

"But –". A stern look from Gibbs silenced him and he put down his coffee. "What's Abby got?"

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An hour later, McGee threw down his pen and sighed heavily. Whoever was attempting to hack into the CIA from a Navy base was _good_. "But so am I," he murmured to himself in an attempt to focus. But he couldn't. Something was very wrong; he could feel it. He glanced up from his desk just in time to see Gibbs stride in, a dark look on his face. McGee exchanged looks with Tony just as Gibbs came to a stop beside them.

They waited.

"Where the _hell _is David?" snapped Gibbs. "She's over an hour late!"

McGee was the first to hesitantly break the silence. "Want me to call her, Boss?"

"_Yes_, McGee, I _would_."

Tony raised his eyebrows at the brusqueness of his boss's tone.

"I'll get on that right away," said McGee hastily, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through to Ziva's numbers. Under the gaze of Gibbs, he called her home phone. It rang a number of times and then the answerphone cut in. It was not unexpected. Then he tried her mobile phone.

The phone rang. And rang. After twelve rings, Ziva's voicemail cut in; McGee groaned and prepared to leave a message. "Hey, Ziva, it's me, McGee. I don't know where you are but you're really late and Gibbs is kinda foaming at the mouth. Bye." He ended the call and put his phone down on his desk. The uneasy feeling tightened its grip on his stomach as his eyes met Tony's. "She didn't answer."

Tony suddenly jumped to his feet. "Something's wrong," he declared. "I think we should go over there and check."

Gibbs nodded assent. "I've got a key. DiNozzo, grab a car. I'll go tell Vance." His words were the trigger for his team to leap into action.

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The drive to Ziva's apartment was tense and silent, and it wasn't long before they had arrived and were making their way up to her place, McGee at the front with the key in one hand and his gun in the other. He put the key in the lock and turned it .The door eased open without a sound and the agents moved cautiously in.

Tony's eyes fell on the phone lying on the floor by the armchair and, catching the attention of the others, indicated it. Silently they checked the apartment but it soon became clear that they were the only people there.

"Boss." McGee pointed out a note on Ziva's kitchen counter. "It's in Hebrew," he added.

Gibbs and Tony exchanged looks. "Eli," they said simultaneously.

"Get agents down here _now_," ordered Gibbs. "See if we can pick up anything for Abby. I want this place _scoured_. I want to find the needle in the proverbial haystack. Put out BOLOs. DiNozzo, talk to the neighbours. Who do we know that knows Hebrew?"

"Miriam Goldstein," supplied Tony. "_I'm _not talking to her, though – she wants to sleep with me and doesn't get the concept that I don't want to." McGee gave him a dubious look. "What?" This time Gibbs rolled his eyes. That sent them scurrying back to work.

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TBC


	2. In The Dark

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Assume that in the scenes with multiple Israelis, Hebrew is being spoken.

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Chapter 2: In The Dark

She wasn't sure what had woken her, but slowly Ziva was returning to consciousness. The first thing she was able to focus on was the sound of a military plane engine. It was loud and her head started throbbing in response to it.

Her mouth. She had been gagged. Her ankles and knees were bound tightly with rope that chafed and burned her skin. Wrists, too, behind her back. She became aware of being in an award half-sitting, half-lying position; hard, cold things dug into her body. Her head hurt badly, and she felt dizzy and faintly nauseous. Around her, men spoke in Hebrew, though the noise from the engine prohibited her from making out the words. Her head hurt too much for her to bear opening her eyes; feigning unconsciousness would probably be a wise move anyway. Having made that decision, she focused on maintaining the ruse.

She had no idea what time it was, how long she had been unconscious or where she was, although she had a fairly good idea of where she was going: Israel, Mossad and her father. And it wouldn't be a happy reunion.

"Tzabar!" one of the men said loudly. "Check on her."

"What if she's awake?" another man, presumably Tzabar, asked.

"Knock her out again. Keep her subdued: we know what she can do. The Director warned us."

Ziva felt her heart sink as her suspicions were confirmed: her father had arranged this. How long had he been planning this? What was he going to do to her? Had anyone realised yet that she had been taken? Would they be able to work it out, before it was too late?

The final thought, coupled with a sudden meeting with turbulence, was too much for her body to take and her stomach lurched violently. Feigning unconsciousness was no longer an option as she retched, though much to her displeasure the gag blocked most of it from escaping.

"She's awake."

She heard two, maybe three, men approach her; one of them untied the gag so she could throw up, much to her relief.

"The Director wants her alive," said the first voice. He was clearly in charge. "Don't let her choke. And give her some water."

"Done?" Tzabar demanded beside her ear. Whimpering slightly, tears in her eyes, she nodded. He pushed her back against the uncomfortable metal as another man brought a bottle of water and held it to her lips. She gratefully rinsed out her mouth in an attempt to get rid of the foul taste in it, before swallowing some. Her hair and clothes had been in the firing line and they stank. She noted that the men made no effort to clear it up. _They will when they cannot stand it any longer_, she thought.

Tzabar gripped her shoulder tightly and shook her hard. "Has Daddy's little girl gone soft?" he taunted. That pushed Ziva to open her eyes at last and she spat in his face; he initially recoiled, then slapped her hard on the cheek. "Daddy wants you alive but he never specified more…" He let his hand drop from her shoulder and brush down her body. Ziva forced herself to not react, knowing that he wanted her to do so. The edges of her vision started tuning black and she let herself five in to the relative comfort of unconsciousness.

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At eleven o'clock, Gibbs and his team were back at NCIS headquarters, ready to brief Director Leon Vance on the situation; though the director was aware that something had happened, he did not know anything more than that.

When Vance arrived, McGee and Tony jumped to their feet, moving towards Gibbs. Vance's sharp gaze took in the depleted number of Gibbs' team. "Where's Agent David?" he demanded, more out of worry than anger.

McGee took a deep breath and stepped forward. "That's why we called you, sir," he said. When Vance gave him a questioning look, he continued. "Some of Agent Denver's team are going over her apartment for us. Agent Goldstein is translating a letter in Hebrew that we found at the scene."

"We think her father may have arranged this, to get her to re-join Mossad," added Tony. Gibbs merely nodded in confirmation.

"I'll give him a call," growled Vance. "Any leads?"

"Nobody saw or heard anything. Abby's working on some stuff in her lab."

"Keep on with what you're doing." Vance spun on his heel and went up to his office. His secretary gave him a startled look as he swept past and slammed his office door. He snatched up the phone on his desk and dialled the international number that would connect him to Eli David, director of Mossad. "I want to speak to the Director," he barked when the other end was answered.

I am afraid that he is unavailable," replied the secretary.

"For how long?"

"He is away for a few days."

"I'll call his cell." Frustrated, Vance slammed the phone down and then retrieved his mobile phone from his pocket, finding the Mossad director's number and hitting the Call button. It went straight to voicemail; the first part of the answering message was in Hebrew, then repeated in English. "Eli, this is Leon Vance. Call me. _Now__**.**_"

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The uncomfortable bumping of the plane touching down, more violent than a commercial plane, shook Ziva awake. Somehow she forced herself to stay silent, despite the pain throughout her body. She wondered where they were. A secret military base, probably.

The plane came to a stop; the hatch opened and three men hauled her to her still-bound feet. Another man stepped onto the plane. "Carry her," he ordered. "And gag and blindfold her. I don't want her knowing where we're taking her."

"Is the vehicle ready?" demanded the man who had been in charge on the flight.

"It is. Get her in."

Ziva found herself being bundled, gagged (thankfully with a fresh one) and blindfolded, into a vehicle that was probably military. The journey was hot and extremely bumpy, jarring her body, already hurting and injured, unbearably. Her head felt as though it would explode and the nausea did not dissipate for a moment; she longed for the bliss of unconsciousness but it refused to come. The men were talking but she was unable to concentrate on what they were saying, the words blurring into each other. She had no idea where she was being taken or what would happen to her once they arrived, never mind if her colleagues, on the other side of the world by now, would be able to find and rescue her in time.

Just as a sense of overwhelming despair came crashing over her, the vehicle caught a particularly nasty bump in the road and the impact sent her forwards. Her knee hit something sharp and she felt blood begin to ooze out of it. Her head landed on someone's lap; the man pressed it further into his lap and chuckled. He leaned down and his hot breath brushed across her cheek. "Throwing yourself at me now, are you?" Tzabar's voice taunted.

Ziva jerked backwards and let out a muffled squawk, but it only made the men laugh, and Tzabar held her down in his lap, lightly running his finger over her face. "Your father never mentioned how pretty you were. And he did promise us rewards for bringing you to him…" He let his voice trail off suggestively and Ziva squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the hot tears that threatened from slipping down her face and showing him that she was weak. She would not let him know the effect he was having on her; she was strong, unbreakable, would not let this foul monster get the better of her.

It was all she could do to not scream when his hand drifted lower, first her neck, then down some more. She kept her body as tense as she could, not yielding to his unwelcome advances. _Does my father hate me or want revenge so badly that he would send these sorts of people to take me? _she thought. _Or maybe I deserve this – the things I have done, the lives I have taken. Perhaps Somalia was not enough. _Her head told her that she was different now, changed, that the past could not be undone but it could be learned from, but it did nothing to alleviate or lessen the guilt she felt.

Tzabar was still caressing her, his dark intentions making a mockery of his gentle touch. Ziva fought the shudders of revulsion that repeatedly surged through her body, knowing that Tzabar would sense it and exploit it further.

"How long?" one of the other men called, presumably to the driver.

"Another sixteen miles or so," came the answer from the front. "They are waiting for us."

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TBC


	3. Prisoner

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Wow, loads of reviews and follows already! Thank you! Hope you continue to enjoy!

Updates are going to be fairly regular but I can't give definite regularity because I write everything by hand before typing it up (it flows better when I do it by hand) so it's going to depend on how fast I can type it up! No idea how many chapters it'll be – although it's finished (I never post anything before it's finished because it drives me up the wall when a fic suddenly stops mid-story because the person's run out of inspiration or just never finished it), I'm splitting the chapters at appropriate points.

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Chapter 3: Prisoner

At three o'clock East Coast Time, the NCIS team assembled in Abby's lab after she had called with news. For once she didn't go into detail about exactly how she had gone about things. Not with Ziva missing.

Gibbs handed her a Caf-Pow. "What've you got, Abs?" he asked, his apprehension not quite masked.

Abby took a deep breath. "I ran the DNA. One of the people…His name's Tzabar Benjamin." She bit her lip, wishing she didn't have to say the next words. "He has a history of violence and – and sexual assault. He's wanted in six states and four other countries."

Silence fell as the team processed this information and struggled to keep themselves calm while they thought what this meant for their friend.

Gibbs reached out and placed a hand on Abby's shoulder, having caught sight of her fear and unshed tears, knowing that the contact would comfort her.

Tony spoke first, angry and vengeful. "When I get my hands on that bastard, I'll blow his brains out if he lays so much as _one finger _on her." He hesitated, waiting for a reproach from Vance, but it did not come: Vance's face reflected everything Tony felt.

"Did Goldstein get a chance to translate that note we found?" asked McGee, desperately hoping for progress.

Gibbs shook his head. "Just after I gave it to her they got called out on a case. They're not back yet."

"Anyone else know of anyone?" asked Vance impatiently.

"I believe there's a synagogue not too far from here," offered Ducky. "I know Ziva goes there from time to time, and it may be the one her father escaped to when he was over here last year."

Tony's eyes lit up. "Then let's ask –"

"_No_." Gibbs was sharp, definite.

"But Boss –"

"How do we know nobody there is involved?" asked Gibbs irritably. "How do we know Eli doesn't have connections? It's likely that he made sure he had people there watching her. McGee, DiNozzo, I want you over there getting information. Well, what are you waiting for?"

"On it, Boss," replied Tony, grabbing McGee's arm and hauling him out of Abby's lab.

"And don't divulge anything if you can help it!" Gibbs called after them.

Tony saluted in acknowledgement as he and his colleague dived into the lift. The ride up was silent, both of them worried and scared about what their friend could be going through.

McGee stepped out of the lift first and then paused, looking at Tony uncertainly. "Tony…"

"Yeah?"

"Somalia…"

"_Don't_, McGee. Just don't." Tony shuddered.

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The vehicle bumpily skidded to a stop, taking Ziva by surprise. Though the journey had been very painful for her, she wished it could continue: now that they had arrived, the real hell would begin.

Doors squeaked open. Men spoke rapidly in Hebrew. Ziva was grabbed and slung over somebody's shoulder and she tensed, on full Mossad-trained alert.

"What a pretty little thing," a new, unfamiliar voice said. He ran a finger down Ziva's cheek and she recoiled, though not very far because of the hold the man carrying her had. "Your father will be _so_ pleased to see you. Such a shame you abandoned us; you could have been _such _an _asset_…" He stroked her face again, causing her to squeak and flinch away.

He dug his thumb into her cheek, hard enough for the ragged nail to break the skin. Ziva could feel it ooze a little blood and she tried to ignore the sting. She wished they would take the blindfold off but knew that they wouldn't. She knew what was to come – she'd done it herself often enough. _I deserve this because of what I've done._

Whoever was carrying her strode swiftly, though jerkily, which added further to the substantial pain and nausea she was already experiencing, and it was all she could do to stay silent and not throw up. She could hear men talking but she was too disoriented to make out what they were saying.

Somewhere nearby a door was swing open. One of her captors announced that they had her; he twisted and turned through what felt like a rabbit warren and then a door was creakingly opened. It sounded heavy, scraping along the floor, and Ziva knew what sort of place she was in – except this time it was her native country, not Africa, and her captors were her own people. That would make this harder than even the darkest days in Somalia.

_No. I must not think like that_, she told herself sternly. Yet it was hard to ignore the deep sense of betrayal she was feeling.

"Put her down," ordered the man who had stroked her cheek.

Perhaps her father had been right, perhaps her time in America _had _softened her.

She heard and felt the blindfold being removed and she blinked rapidly several times, dazzled by the burning Middle-Eastern sun. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the room: a hard wooden chair in the middle, rope loosely around the front legs and the chair back, an empty table and five men, including Tzabar.

Her eyes fell on the man with the broadest shoulders and for a split second she froze – his name was unknown to her but she recognised his face: one of her father's most loyal henchmen. He must have seen something in her face because he winked at her and steppedtowardsher, resting his hand on her cheek in a mockery of tenderness much like Tzabar had done on the flight.

Ziva's blood ran cold. She knew that look: it matched Tzabar's and also that of Saleem and his 'cronies' – that was the word Tony had used – and she knew what was coming. She forced herself to not panic.

"If we take the gag off, I wouldn't bother screaming," said the man. "Bullet-proof glass in the windows. Each wall is two feet thick." She wasn't convinced about _that_; it was probably one of the standard phrases he used to intimidate prisoners. "The door is solid metal. However much you scream – and believe me, you'll scream – nobody will hear you. _Nobody_." He smirked and the other men chuckled and snickered. Tzabar winked seductively at her. The leader stepped forward and cupped her chin in his hand. "We can ungag her now. Tie her to the corner rings."

_Corner rings?_ She had missed those in her initial scan of the room. Now she spotted them and a sick feeling started to grow. There was no sense in fighting back at this point; she needed to stay alive, give NCIS a chance to find and rescue her. They had rescued her before, at a point when they had believed she had chosen Mossad over NCIS and then that she was dead, so she knew that this time she could trust them to track her down.

She paused, surprised at the complete trust that came immediately to her. It was not a feeling she was used to.

Tzabar and another man grabbed her arms, jerking her out of her thoughts, and dragged her to the iron rings embedded in the wall. The men were swift and rough as they tied her up, then ungagged her and stepped back. The rings were slightly above the height of her shoulders as she sat on the floor. They then repeated this with her ankles, using the rings embedded in the floor. Their positions meant that Ziva had no choice but to sit spread-eagled.

The leader grinned. "Boys, I would like some time alone with Miss David. You don't need to shut the door."

Tzabar and his associates saluted their leader and left, the door staying wide open. The leader grinned at her, his eyes glittering psychotically, as he knelt down in front of her and caught her lips in an aggressive kiss. Ziva closed her eyes, not wanting to look at the flushed, now-slobbering man, as she mentally prepared herself for the inevitable.

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TBC


	4. Suspects

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Goldstein is, though.

While I am a firm Tiva shipper, this fic is _not _going to be a Tiva-romance fic. There isn't any romance in this fic at all. Just so you know and don't get your hopes up! If you want a good Tiva romance, you could do far worse than check out AliyahNCIS's "Remnants of Somalia" series, which is absolutely fantastic.

Please please review! I want to know what you think, both good and bad (and if there are typos, please let me know so I can fix them). I really do appreciate reviews.

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Chapter 4: Suspects

"Well, _that_ was a waste of time," growled Tony as they returned to the NCIS building three hours later.

"I don't know…" disagreed McGee slowly. "That couple we talked to last were a bit _too_ clueless. I want to set Gibbs on them before we dismiss them entirely."

"How and for what reason do we bring them in here, McUseless?"

"I can do a background check."

"You do that, McGee," said Gibbs from behind them. "But first talk to me about them. DiNozzo, you too."

McGee took his coat off and hung it on the back of his chair. "Came here from Israel five years ago. One adult son who still lives over there, rest of the family killed in a Hamas bombing, which is what made them decide to move here. They say they don't know anything at all about Mossad and that's what got me suspicious. How can you be Israeli and not know anything about Mossad?"

"Find their records. Dig up anything and everything you can find about them. _Anything_. DiNozzo, get on Goldstein's case and tell her the translation is _number one priority_. Didn't you hear me?" He waved the Hebrew note under the senior agent's nose.

"On it, Boss." Tony took it from him and hurried off to find Goldstein so swiftly that he didn't even take his coat off. It didn't take him long to find her – he bumped into her (literally) in the corridor.

Special Agent Miriam Goldstein did not offer him a hand up from the floor. "What is it, DiNozzo?"

Tony winced at the address, a change from his first name, and scrambled to his feet. "We need your help," he informed her briskly, handing the note to her.

Goldstein arched one eyebrow. "Don't you have Ziva David on your team?" she demanded.

Tony bit his lip at the mention of his missing partner. "Actually, no. She – she's disappeared. We found this in her apartment this morning."

"Oh." Goldstein paused awkwardly, then read the note. "It says: 'There is no such thing as ex-Mossad. Blood is thicker than water.' I think the implications are fairly clear. Anything else I can do for you?"

Tony shook his head. "No. All good. Thanks." He took back the note and returned to the bullpen, relaying to his colleagues what Goldstein had translated.

Gibbs made a growling sound that made everyone in the room stop what they were doing and look round at him. "When I get my hands on Eli David, I'll string him up by his –"

A throat was cleared behind him, cutting him off. Gibbs turned round to see Vance standing there, arms folded over his chest. "Gibbs..."

"Leon," acknowledged Gibbs mildly. "What? I never said I'd blow his brains out or anything. Not unless it comes down to his life or Ziva's." He turned his gaze to McGee. "McGee, got anything?"

McGee sighed. "He's got an outstanding parking ticket but that's all I can find – wait, hold on…"

"What is it?" asked Vance.

"Someone's flagged the record…" McGee began furiously tapping his keyboard while the director and the rest of the team looked on. "C'mon, c'mon…" He exhaled abruptly, a resigned expression on his face as he met Gibbs' eyes.

"Don't you have a meeting to go to, Leon?" asked Gibbs pointedly.

"What? No I – Oh!" Comprehension dawned on Vance's face. "Excuse me, gentlemen." He nodded briefly at them and left the floor.

Tony glanced, confused, between Gibbs and McGee. "Er, Boss, he doesn't have a meeting, does he?" He ducked, anticipating the head-slap that for once didn't come. "Boss?"

Gibbs beckoned him over to McGee's desk and they crouched down; Gibbs put his hand on the younger agent's shoulder. "Timothy…"

McGee interrupted him. "I'm going to hack into the CIA again, aren't I, Boss?"

"Got it in one." Gibbs patted him on the shoulder.

"Boss?"

"_What_, McGee?"

"I'm gonna need a decent coffee…" McGee smiled sweetly at Gibbs, uncannily like the smile Abby gave him when she wanted an extra Caf-Pow.

This amused Gibbs and he smiled a little. "I think that can be arranged. DiNozzo, I want the names of everyone who's attended that synagogue since Ziva first joined us. Especially since we brought her back from Somalia. Since she resigned from Mossad. 'No such thing as ex-Mossad': that's _definitely _Eli. He's paraphrased me."

Tony met his eyes, even more worried now. "She's in really serious trouble, isn't she, Boss?"

"Get going with those names," ordered Gibbs, knowing that the tedious task would require all of Tony's attention, stopping from spending his time worrying about his partner. "Coffee for you too?"

"Thanks, Boss." He was mildly surprised at the gesture but then realised that it was the gravity of the situation that had prompted it. With that thought in mind, he shook himself and set about drawing up a plan for the task he had been given.

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Vance reappeared at five-thirty, knowing that McGee would probably have had enough time to not hack into the CIA. Abby, Ducky and Palmer were hanging around the team's area, Palmer repetitively cleaning his glasses, Abby sitting on Ziva's desk whilst swinging her legs back and forth, and Ducky telling one of his long, rambling tales that for once nobody had the heart to tell him to shut up about.

Ducky fell silent as Vance joined them. The NCIS director nodded at all of them. "Update," he said.

"Have you heard anything from Eli?" asked Gibbs.

Vance shook his head. "Man seems to have completely disappeared off the radar. DiNozzo?"

"Rabbi's given me a list of all the names he can think of. There are a _lot _of people and he doesn't have everyone's names." Vance cleared his throat impatiently and Tony quickly resumed. "I've got a few names flagged on the system but nothing significant."

"Define 'nothing significant'."

"Some speeding tickets, parking tickets, some low-level juvenile stuff."

"Links to wider networks?"

"Working on that but nothing so far."

"Keep on it. McGee?"

McGee nodded his head, but his face clearly reflected how much more worried he had become compared to earlier. "I've got something. It's not good. I mean, _really _not good." He paused, taking a moment to collect himself. "That couple Tony and I talked to earlier – they're not the innocent immigrants escaping from the violence and danger that they claimed to be."

"They work for Eli," from Gibbs. It was a statement of confirmation rather than a question.

"Mossad agents. Oh, it gets better."

"Or worse," muttered Tony. Abby glared at him.

"They're also working with the CIA. More specifically, a particular agent – one who is no longer a CIA agent."

"CI Ray," growled Tony. McGee nodded mutely. Abby gasped, wide-eyed with shock.

"Bring all three of them in. _Now_," ordered Vance. "Grab your gear. I'm coming too." Swiftly, Gibbs, Tony and McGee grabbed their gear and hurried to the lift, not wanting to lose a single precious second.

The others watched them go. "I do hope their questions earlier didn't spook that couple," said Ducky anxiously. "Or prompt them to get word to Ziva's father –" He was cut off by Abby flinging herself into his arms and although he was momentarily stunned, he quickly remembered that this was Abby and hugs were her default response to just about every situation. He met Palmer's eyes and knew that his assistant was just as worried as the rest of the team.

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Vance and McGee went on the hunt for Ray. During the afternoon, when McGee had been working on technological matters, he had obtained addresses for both Ray and the Mossad couple. Vance was driving, McGee directing, and it took around half an hour to arrive at their destination.

All seemed in order when Vance casually pulled up beside a nice-looking suburban house, which he knew belonged to Ray's sister. "Ready, McGee?"

"Yes, sir."

Vance strode up to the front door and knocked firmly while McGee slipped round the back. A moment later a dark-haired woman answered. "Yes?"

"Director Vance of NCIS," he informed her, holding up his badge. "Is your brother in?"

"Yes. What's this about?"

"Your brother." There was a faint, almost intangible hint of sarcasm in the director's voice.

"Oh. Er. Yes." She poked her head into what Vance assumed was the lounge. "Ray, someone here for you."

"Who? And what do they want?"

"I don't know; you'll have to ask him."

A sigh, then a moment later, former CIA agent Ray Cruz wandered up to the front door. "What can I –" He broke off when he laid eyes on Vance and turned on his heel to bolt.

"Not gonna happen," growled Vance, stepping into the house, slamming the shorter man against the wall and swiftly handcuffing him. "McGee!" he yelled. "I've got him!"

Ray didn't even attempt to struggle free, knowing Vance would overpower him in an instant; a moment later McGee appeared, Ray's rights were read to him and the two agents bundled him somewhat unceremoniously into the car. Vance looked at Ray's sister. "We're taking him to NCIS headquarters. You can come if you want."

She looked completely bewildered. "Er… My husband's back from work soon; I – I'll ask him to take me."

"Ask for Director Vance."

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

On the way to the Israeli couple's apartment, Tony arranged backup while Gibbs drove. Their plan was discussed; backup arrived three minutes after the NCIS agents and Gibbs briefed them. After showing their badges and ID to the building supervisor, the agents were let in and made their way up to the couple's apartment on the sixth floor. [USA: 7th floor] Tony knocked firmly on the door and waited.

No response. He tried again, harder this time. Slow footsteps could be head coming towards the door and the two agents readied their guns, their guts telling them that their targets would not come quietly.

The door opened. "Yes?" asked the woman in a heavy accent similar to Ziva's.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. You may remember me from this morning. This is Special Agent Gibbs, my boss. NCIS. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Abruptly the woman moved to slam the door in his face; Gibbs, anticipating this, stepped forwards to prevent the door from closing. "We've got the place surrounded," he warned her as he flung the door open again with his shoulder.

The woman shouted something in Hebrew as she raced through the apartment. Gibbs and Tony were immediately hot on her heels. They were heading for the fire escape; the heavy door banged shut behind the woman. Tony swore, then a moment later remembering that the backup agents were stationed on the metal stairs and would stop the couple from getting away. He flung open the door just in time to see Jackson and Marquez tackling the Israelis to the metal fire escape, which shook under the force of the captures. "Thanks, guys!" shouted Tony from the doorway.

"Get them in the car while we secure the scene," called Gibbs. The Israeli man met his eyes just then, and the look he got from the NCIS agent in return made the suspect balk slightly. Gibbs couldn't wait to get them into Interrogation.

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TBC


	5. Flashbacks and Abandonment

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Last chapter was all Washington-based; this one is all Israel. As I mentioned before, chapter division is dependent on word count and suitable cut-off points.

This chapter includes some of my musings on Somalia – loyalties, who abandoned whom – and what led Ziva to make the decision she did in early season 7.

Please please review! I want to know what you think, both good and bad (and if there are typos, please let me know so I can fix them). I really do appreciate reviews.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Chapter 5: Flashbacks and Abandonment

At some point Ziva must have passed out – there was now moonlight, not sunlight, coming through the window. It had probably been mid-afternoon when she last remembered being conscious.

Panic swept over her and for a moment she was not in Israel but back in Somalia. She could hear Saleem's voice, demanding, taunting, threatening. The urge to curl up into a tight ball, to make herself as small and inaccessible as possible to protect herself from whatever might come, was overwhelming. She tried, but the rope scraped her skin and jolted her movement to a stop. Acute pain made her gasp aloud and she bit her lip in an effort to stifle it, as well as to prevent the threatening tears from falling.

_No. This is _not_ Somalia, _she reminded herself firmly. _They will come, and soon. Much sooner than last time because they do not think I am dead. _Idly she imagined the video-conference row in MTAC between Vance and her father; the thought brought a smile to her face, despite the circumstances. Half of NCIS headquarters would probably be able to hear the scene, should it take place.

"What's so funny, David?" demanded the leader from the doorway.

It made her jump. Immediately she slipped back into a neutral, unreadable expression, and steeled herself for whatever the man was planning to mete out to her. She raised her head and met his eyes. "I do not believe I am familiar with your name, though I know your face and connection with my father."

"Mordechai." He sauntered towards her and slowly, deliberately removed a thin whip from his deep pocket, a sadistic grin on his face.

Ziva forced herself to not flinch back or show her fear as he cracked the whip and approached her. _They will come, _she reassured herself. _They will come. _

"This is not for today," Mordechai informed her. "Today is for other things. Today I have you all to myself…"

"What does Eli want from me?" asked Ziva suddenly, aiming to throw him slightly.

If he had been thrown by her question, Mordechai did not show it. "You mean your father."

Ziva snorted derisively. "Only through DNA."

"Yes, I heard about that. You're an American now." His eyes flashed and his face darkened. "You disowned him. Him, me, everyone else – your entire _country._ You abandoned Israel. How can you live with yourself?" His voice rose in anger and passion. "We fought so hard for so long to get our country; we are _still _fighting those who would see Israel wiped from the face of the Earth! How could you abandon it all?" He spat at her feet. "How could you abandon _us_?"

Ziva briefly closed her eyes. It hurt to hear his tirade: hurt because he could not possibly comprehend all that she had been through and how that had led her to the decisions she had made; yet at the same time hurt because she too had once had that passion, because she understood him all too well, because that had been her.

She held his gaze steadily. "I did not abandon Israel," she informed him coolly. "_Israel _abandoned _me_. When I was – when I was in Somalia, nobody from Israel came to rescue me. _Nobody_. But the Americans – _they_ came. _They _rescued me. They came even though they believed me first to have abandoned and turned on them, then dead, yet _they still came_. Maybe you should be asking where Israel was _then_."

_Crack!_

Ziva sucked her breath in sharply as the whip slashed across her exposed arms and her chest, drawing blood and tearing her clothes.

"_That _is what happens when you are insolent!" Mordechai told her angrily.

"You asked me a question; I answered it," replied Ziva, far more calmly than she felt.

This time, Mordechai slapped her face, hard.

_So it is going to be like that, _she thought. _Fine. Two can play at that game. If he does not like how I answer his questions, I simply shall not answer them. _"What does Director David want from me?"

Mordechai shrugged. "You'll have to ask him that when he shows up."

"And when is that going to be?"

The whip was cracked against the wall, though near enough that she drew back protectively from it. Mordechai crouched down in front of her and put his face a mere few inches from hers. "_I _am the one who asks the questions!" he hissed furiously.

Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, Mordechai's burst of anger brought sudden clarity to Ziva's thoughts. She now recalled how she'd seen him a few years ago, how her father had pulled him up on it. Her Mossad training clicked back into place and she began planning how to use those memories to her advantage.

With an incoherent hiss, Mordechai seized a fistful of her long, dark hair and pulled her head back so her throat was exposed. His other hand pulled a knife from his belt and, grinning, he lightly ran it across her throat a few times, intentionally not breaking the skin. "Such a pretty little thing," he whispered, his hot breath close to her ear. "Such a pity it is wasted on a traitorous wretch like you. You're an embarrassment to the family."

Grateful that the proximity of his mouth and face prohibited him from seeing her expression, Ziva rolled her eyes. _He really does need to work on his interrogation technique, _she mused. _I could teach him so, so much._

"By the time I have finished with you," continued Mordechai, "no man will ever, _ever _want you. _Everyone _will know your shame."

"Did the Director order that?"

_Crack. _The whip again. More blood, more pain. She would not be surprised if Eli David had ordered such treatment – he was a ruthless man, had ordered her to kill her own brother, his own son, and he generally went to all lengths to get what he wanted. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly in an attempted to keep back her tears. Her team would not understand the full depths of the shame: it was a cultural thing, and they did not know how deep it already was after Somalia. Blame and fault were perceived differently by the Americans. Though she felt their view was much fairer, especially after all she had experienced in her own life, she could not simply erase with the ease of hitting the Delete button on a computer what had been ingrained into her as a daughter of Israel. She was helpless, defenceless, and there was nothing she could do about it except hope and pray. So as Mordechai placed his stinking, hot, slobbering mouth over hers, she prayed that Tony, McGee and Gibbs would come soon.

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TBC


	6. Interrogating Ray

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

I know there's a dearth of movie quotes from Tony, but I'm not good with movies. Episodes of ER and NCIS I can quote until the cows come home but movies? Afraid not. If anyone can think of any good ones that I could insert, feel free to do so!

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and also to those following the story. I'm really pleased you all like it. The plan is to update daily but it depends from Saturday whether or not I'll be able to continue this schedule. A lot of it comes down to whether I can find my memory stick!

Please please review! I want to know what you think, both good and bad (and if there are typos, please let me know so I can fix them). I really do appreciate reviews.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Chapter 6: Interrogating Ray

Gibbs, Tony and McGee stood outside the interrogation room where Ray sat uneasily. They'd let him sit like that for a good half an hour.

"Good cop bad cop?" suggested Tony at length, calmly munching on a chocolate bar.

Gibbs nodded. "You're Good Cop. McGee, you're Unsettling-the-Suspect Cop." At McGee's confused expression, Gibbs elaborated. "I want you standing in the corner watching him intently. It'll make him uneasy."

"You mean more uneasy than he already is," clarified Tony.

"Damn right." Gibbs drained the last of his coffee and turned to Tony. "Just don't threaten his pet bunny or anything. "He smiled to himself as he saw the confused looks his agents gave him. "C'mon, let's interrogate him." He swung open the door and went in, his agents behind him. As instructed, McGee lurked in a corner, arms folded across his chest, and Tony slapped a cup of water down on the table in front of Ray.

Blinking in surprise, Ray looked up at Tony. "Hi, Tony." Tony ignored him.

"No lawyer?" inquired Gibbs mildly.

"Don't need one."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

McGee and Tony exchanged sceptical looks and the latter's eyes glittered. McGee was very glad that he was not on the receiving end of the interrogation.

Ray leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head so casually he could have been on a beach in Hawaii rather than being interrogated by his ex-girlfriend's colleagues.

"You were pretty easy to find," observed Tony, ambling round Ray in a circle.

Ray shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?" This earned him a raised-eyebrow glare from Gibbs.

"How long have you known these two?" asked Tony, slapping photos of the Israeli couple down onto the table.

"Never seen them before in my life," came the easy reply.

"_Don't_," barked Gibbs as he slammed three more photos onto the table, "lie to me."

Alarm briefly crossed Ray's face before he resumed his calm expression. "Where did you get these?"

"Doesn't matter," said McGee from the corner.

"Any idiot can use Photoshop these days!" retorted Ray, a tiny hint of panic in his voice. He glanced over at McGee. "You did this, didn't you? I know what a computer geek you are!"

"Anyone would think you were worried," commented Tony.

"Why would I be?"

Tony got right in his face, his temper fraying with a man he had never liked. "Because we _all _know that that photo is authentic, that you're lying and that you three had something to do with Ziva's disappearance!"

At the mention of her name, Ray stiffened. "I don't know where you got that idea from. Why would I?"

Silencing a visibly-riled Tony with one of his Looks, Gibbs pushed the photos towards Ray and banged his hand on the table again, making the former CIA agent jump. "Where do you want me to start?" he demanded. "Where were you yesterday evening?"

"At a bar with a couple of friends."

"Which bar? With whom?"

"Donnelly's, a block from my sister's. I was with my old colleagues James Dodson and Ricky Thompson. They'll vouch for me."

"Phone numbers and addresses." Tony pushed a pen and some paper at him. "_Now_."

Shrugging again, Ray obliged. "They'll back me up; I was there all evening."

"We'll check." He didn't doubt the alibi; he knew Ray was smart enough to ensure that he was a long way from the scene when anything happened.

"Knock yourself out."

"I'd rather knock _you _out," retorted Tony.

"Your former employer obtained these photographs," continued Gibbs, "while they were watching this couple. Just so happens that they caught you with them." His voice rose to a near-shout. "So do _not _continue lying to us and just _tell me what the hell you were doing with them!_"

Ray shrank back. "They – they just happened to be sitting at the same table as me, I guess. That place gets pretty busy; you sometimes have to sit with strangers."

"There are plenty of empty tables, Ray," pointed out Tony, indicating with his pen each one in the photo. "Explain _that_."

"Look, it was three months ago! Do you really expect me to remember _every minute _of _every day_?" demanded Ray, infuriated.

"So you _were _there!" yelled Gibbs, startling McGee. "You're admitting that you were there, that the photos are genuine, that you _have_, in actuality, met the people who five minutes ago you insisted you'd never seen before in your life!"

All colour drained from Ray's face and he silently cursed. He'd been so sure that his time in the CIA would have rendered him immune – or at the very least, much more resistant – to 'the Gibbs effect' as Ziva had once labelled it.

"Tut tut," said Tony, shaking his head in disappointment. "I had money on you holding out much longer than that. Damn, that means I owe Abby twenty bucks."

"Now that we've cleared that up," said Gibbs, steering the conversation back on-topic, "tell me what your involvement with this couple is. Tell me what has happened to Special Agent David. Tell me _why_."

"The bitch dumped me, punched me – in front of other people! – and made me lose my damn job!" shouted Ray, jumping to his feet with his eyes blazing. "Why do you _think_?"

"Don't you think _you _made you lose your job?" asked Tony. "You know, killing an innocent witness might have something to do with it? But feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."

"_She ruined my life!_"

"C'mon, that's a little melodramatic, dont'cha think?" He got very close to Ray. "Tell us about the Israelis. It'll be a lot better for you if you just talk. You never know, the system might take your co-operation into account and be a bit more lenient."

"What do _you _know about the Israelis?" shot back Ray.

"You're really not in a position to be asking those questions."

"Answer the man," answered Gibbs irritably. When Ray looked like he was going to brush him off. Gibbs gave him his patented Stare.

Ray sighed. "Fine. They're Mossad. They were trying to get information on a case I _was_ working."

"What case?"

"It's classified."

"Convenient excuse," remarked McGee from his corner, earning a glare from Ray for his input.

"Screw classified!" screamed Gibbs, knocking a chair to one side, making the other three flinch. "You tell me and you tell me _NOW_!"

It worked: Ray whimpered and shrunk into his chair. "They – they're Mossad."

"You already told us _that_," said Tony, rolling his eyes.

Ray attempted to shrug nonchalantly, though his effort was far from convincing. He caught sight of Gibbs tapping his foot impatiently. "Okay. They were sent by Ziva's father."

"What does _he _want?" asked Tony, distaste clear in his voice.

"Her."

"Why?"

Ray shook his head. I don't know. No, really."

"And the couple?" demanded Gibbs.

"They approached me about her."

"So you gave her up to them." Tony's words were not a question. He got a nod in reply. The senior agent looked to Gibbs. "What do we do with him now, Boss?"

"Put him back in his cell," instructed Gibbs. "We'll talk to the Israelis."

Tony and McGee hauled Ray to his feet and Gibbs watched as they escorted him back to his cell, suspecting that the Mossad agents would be much harder to deal with.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Gibbs' suspicions were confirmed an hour later when neither he, Tony, Vance or McGee had been able to get anything out of the couple. They were marched back to their cells and the team reconvened in Abby's lab with Chinese takeaways.

"CI Ray was a _lot _easier to crack," remarked McGee.

"Ee oz deb eezhee." Tony nodded in agreement. Vance and Gibbs both cleared their throats, Gibbs raised a hand warningly and Tony hastily swallowed and translated. "I said, he was dead easy."

"How do you want to do this?" Vance asked Gibbs.

"Let them stew for a couple of hours. Or boil, or cook, or anything else like it that Ziva would say instead." He paused for a moment. "Then I'll have another crack at them. Leon, go see your wife and kids; there's nothing more you can do now."

Vance gave him a funny look. "I'm your superior. Are _you_ ordering _me_ home?"

"Yes."

"Okay then." The Director shrugged his shoulders, turned on his heel and left. Tony and McGee looked questioningly at Gibbs, wondering what was next. Abby bit her lip anxiously, holding Bert the farting hippo close to her body.

"Go home for the night," Gibbs ordered them. "There's nothing more we can do tonight. Get some sleep. We'll interrogate the Israelis tomorrow. I need you sharp and alert from zero-seven-hundred hours." He paused and his voice softened. "_Ziva _needs you to be that way, too." He watched silently as McGee and Tony took their leave, worried and exhausted. Ziva depended on them.

"Gibbs? Gibbs, you'll find her, won't you?" asked Abby desperately, pressing herself into his chest for comfort. He knew that she needed it so he put his arms around his surrogate daughter – one of them; the other one was on the other side of the world and hopefully still alive – and held her close while she sobbed her heart out for her friend.

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TBC


	7. Humiliation

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

I'm really pleased you're all enjoying it so much. Thank you for all your kind words! I've almost finished typing it up and it's looking like there'll be 11 chapters in total.

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Chapter 7: Humiliation

Sunbeams began to dance on Ziva's eyelids as the sun rose the following morning, prompting her to awaken. As her eyes fluttered open, the only sensation in her body was that of pain. Pain _everywhere_, burning, aching, throbbing. Her shoulders were stiff and aching from being raised and held in the same position for so long; her neck was agony from the crick that had settled in while she had been asleep, and a sharp pain shot through it as she attempted to raise her head. Her wrists and ankles burned from the rope bindings. Various wounds across her body stung every time she moved even slightly. Her hips hurt, ached, throbbed from being locked in the same unnatural position for over twelve hours. The pounding in her head had not waned since the previous day; if anything, it was worse – dehydration, she suspected, along with repeated assaults. And she was determined to ignore the more distasteful aspects that came with being held prisoner. At least in Somalia she hadn't been tied up in such a restrictive way.

She had the sudden urge to laugh – never had she thought that she would find something positive from the horror that had been Somalia.

The door to her cell opened, and Tzabar and Mordechai ambled in, cruel, sadistic smirks on their faces. Mordechai allowed the whip to dangle from his hands and his roving eyes took in her body. Ziva flinched from the gaze, having no desire to look at the man any longer than absolutely necessary.

"You will be having a visitor shortly," Mordechai informed her. "He will be _delighted_ to see his little girl."

"Not so little these days," remarked Tzabar, his hungry eyes fixed on her semi-exposed chest. Ziva fought back the urge to tell him to put his drooling tongue back in his mouth, knowing it would only intensify her punishment.

"Not speaking to me this morning?" demanded Mordechai, his eyes flashing malevolently.

Ziva felt a flash or rebelliousness rise up in her and she met his eyes defiantly. "I would not waste my breath on _you_!" she retorted.

_Crack_. She gasped involuntarily as the whip sliced across her legs, stinging, drawing blood. Tzabar chuckled and withdrew something from his pocket. The sunlight was so bright that Ziva had to squint to make out what the object was.

A camera. Probably one with a video recorder and microphone, too – they all seemed to come like that these days. She bit the inside of her mouth hard enough to make it bleed, in order to maintain a façade of indifference, to hide the fact that inside she was on the verge of her breaking point. Not even Saleem had gone this far, keeping a visual record of what was being done to her, presumably to be sent to NCIS to taunt her colleagues. _Where did my father find these sick monsters? _she wondered, well aware that their behaviour and sexual creepiness were not what she was used to in Mossad agents. If they even _were_ Mossad.

_Click. Click. Click._

She lifted her head to see them pointing the camera at her and leering at her like starving hyenas.

Then Tzabar handed the camera to Mordechai and crouched down beside her, his stinking breath hot on her face. Instinctively, Ziva recoiled, wrinkling her nose, and Tzabar chuckled.

"Lift her head up," ordered Mordechai. "Hand on her leg…Further up…" Tzabar grinned and squeezed her thigh, licking her cheek.

Ziva fought against the rising tears of absolute humiliation, but they were stronger than her, slipping down her face in hot salty trickles. The photos continued relentlessly, Mordechai instructing Tzabar into poses that became more and more humiliating and intimate. Ziva forced herself to hold it together outwardly and it was at least an hour before they finally stopped. 'At least', because Ziva had no means of telling exact times and her head pounded.

Mordechai returned the camera to Tzabar and crouched down in front of her, his trousers unzipped. "Make sure you use the video-recording setting," he instructed, eyes glittering. Tzabar was only too happy to oblige, his own excitement clearly visible to Ziva .She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly to minimise her tears, and focused her mind on memories from her childhood, silently reciting the prayers she and her beloved sister had learned from their mother, again and again until blackness descended and she slipped into unconsciousness.

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A hand on her shoulder shook her violently awake and she squinted against the sunlight. With Tzabar and Mordechai stood a grey-haired man. He nodded in acknowledgement. "Ziva." There was no emotion in his voice.

"Eli," she replied coldly. "It has been some time."

The director of Mossad stepped forward. "Indeed."

"What is this about?"

He got very close to her and gently put a hand to her bruised and cut cheek and stroked it.

"Do _not_," hissed Ziva, jerking her head away, "touch me."

Eli sighed heavily. "Ziva, I am your _Abba _–"

She shook her head vehemently. "You no longer have any right to claim that name! There is only one man who will ever get that name from me and it is _not you_!"

Eli blinked and wobbled, uncertainty on his normally blank face. "Ziva dear, you're being very silly. Who on Earth else would you call that?"

"Who do you _think_?"

Eli's lip curled and he wrinkled his nose as comprehension dawned. "Of course. Leroy Jethro _Gibbs_. What, Tzabar, you think she was talking about Leon Vance?!"

Tzabar subsided, retreating behind Mordechai.

Ziva nodded defiantly. "If I ever get married, _he _will be the one to give me away." She stared intently into Eli's eyes. "Not you."

His eyes saddened, though Ziva knew better than to assume that it was genuine. "Ziva, you are my only remaining child –"

"I should have known: the guilt trip tactic," she shot back bitterly. "No, Eli, I will not be manipulated by you any more. You have used me too often in the past. I am _not _your agent any more and I am not your daughter. That Ziva is dead. She died in Somalia." She fought back the nausea that still washed over her whenever she thought about Somalia, even though she had been rescued more than two years ago. She wondered if there would ever be a time when it wouldn't happen.

Eli sighed, and his eyes and voice hardened. "We need you here. We need you back in Mossad."

"No. Never. That part of my life is over. _Over_. I work for NCIS and NCIS _only_ now. I am an American citizen." She paused, confidence growing. "And the American government does not take kindly to foreign organisations kidnapping their federal agents and citizens. Even your relationship with Vance cannot make the situation very much better. I do not answer to you any more."

"Ziva, our country needs you –"

"No it does _not_! If it did, it would have been Israel and not America who rescued me from Somalia! I want nothing more to do with either you or Mossad. _Ever_. You are _dead_ to me."

Eli stood swiftly and the hardness turned to ice. "Then we have nothing more to say to each other." He nodded at his men. "Our positions are clarified. Do not bring me here again." He strode out of the room without looking back.

Ziva did not feel any sadness – what she had said to him was just as true now as it had been just after Somalia. She had done her grieving a long time ago

Just as she had thought that, realisation swept over her in an ice-cold wave: without the Mossad director's supervision or limits, Mordechai and the others were free to do whatever they liked with her. She was just as much at the mercy of the Israelis now as any other, as she had been in Somalia. _But Tim, Tony and Gibbs will find me. They will come._

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Tzabar grabbing her hair and jerking her head back, hard enough that he hit it on the wall. She cried out in pain, and Tzabar chuckled and placed wet, slobbering kisses down her neck. Ziva briefly caught a glimpse of his eyes glittering as he raised the camera, pointing it in her direction. She closed her eyes and in her head focused on the childhood prayers like she had done before in the desperate hope that it would take away some of what she was enduring.

That hope was shattered when five other men came into the room and the door was shut.

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TBC


	8. Worse Than Somalia

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

I have finished typing it up! I'll carry on with daily updates and can confirm that there are 11 chapters in total. Then I'll be getting on with writing a post-season 9 finale fic so keep an eye out for that! I'd like to get that written at least in longhand (I write better with pen and paper than sat at a computer, plus they're a lot easier to take around with you and you don't have to worry about dying batteries and power supplies!)

Thank you to all my lovely readers and reviewers!

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Chapter 8: Worse Than Somalia

By half-past six the next morning, Tony and McGee were both already sat at their desks waiting for Gibbs to arrive, though neither was actually doing any work. McGee was writing notes for his latest novel (or at the very least, attempting to) and Tony was playing games on his phone. The room was almost completely silent as there were only a couple of other agents around.

The silence was broken by the _ding_ from the lift and Gibbs strode into the room, carrying three large coffees. He put one down on Tony's desk, opposite Ziva's painfully empty one, as he passed it and then another on McGee's.

"Oh. Er…Thanks, Boss," said Tony, somewhat surprised. McGee, equally surprised, added his thanks.

Gibbs nodded his acknowledgement, sat down and turned on his computer. "You've got everything you need in case the Director sends us off today?"

"Ready and waiting," confirmed McGee, and Tony nodded his head.

"Good." Gibbs took a long drink from his coffee – and then momentarily froze.

Both McGee and Tony noticed and Tony ventured to speak. "Something wrong, Boss?" he asked.

"I think we'll be leaving for Israel sooner rather than later," said Gibbs quietly. He beckoned them over and gestured to the images in an email he had just opened.

McGee's jaw dropped. "Is that…?"

"Yeah, I – I think it is," replied Tony, paling. "Oh God, there's a video as well…"

Silently Gibbs brought up the photos one by one, growing sicker with each image that appeared.

"I don't want to watch the video," said Tony faintly, "but we have to." He nodded and Gibbs opened the video file. The three of them watched in silence, horrified, sickened and angry. When it was over, fifteen minutes later, they exchanged looks.

"I – I'll try to trace the source," McGee said decisively, attempting to keep his voice from shaking.

"We leave for Israel this afternoon," announced Gibbs, almost as pale as Tony.

"You have something?" came Abby's voice as she emerged from the lift.

McGee hesitated. "It – it's bad, Abs."

Abby hurried over to the desk – and stumbled back against McGee, who caught her. The forensic scientist's eyes widened and filled with tears. "What – what have they _done _to her?" she gasped.

"More like what _haven't _they done," replied Tony grimly.

It was several minutes before any of them could take their eyes off the screen. When they did so, it was because Vance was striding over to them. "Got some info?" he demanded, peering over Tony's shoulders. He pressed his lips together tightly when he saw what they were looking at. "You leave for Israel this afternoon. I'll arrange your transport." He strode off and disappeared into his office, slamming the door behind him.

"Alright, McGee, do your thing," ordered Gibbs, moving from his seat to allow the computer expert to get to work. He received a near-hysterical Abby and held her close, gently kissing the top of her head. "We'll get her back, Abs," he promised. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll get her back. I've already lost one daughter and I've lost this one once, but I _will _get her back. I'm not losing her a second time."

Vance reappeared. "You leave at seventeen-hundred hours. Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee, get all the information you need by then, especially from the Mossad pair." He disappeared again.

"You heard the man," said Gibbs. He released Abby. "Abs, see if you can get any more information and report back the moment you have anything. _Anything_."

"Of – of course," replied Abby, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "We'll – we'll bring her home safe. And I'll make sure we _nail _those bastards who did this to _our _Ziva."

A small smile graced Gibbs' face. "You do that."

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

At precisely 1700, the three agents were strapped in to the military plane, armed with all the information they had been able to obtain, including just enough to be useful that Gibbs and Vance had eventually managed to prise out of the Israelis. As the hatch on the plane was closed, Vance raised a hand in farewell from the tarmac, his normally-unreadable face clearly reflecting his worry.

"Never thought Vance could show so much emotion," joked Tony, more out of habit and fear than anything else. McGee was able to raise a slight laugh and Gibbs allowed himself to smile a little.

"Wonder how this incident will affect his relationship with Eli," mused Gibbs, contemplating the last coffee he would have for a good twelve hours.

"Can't imagine it'll be too goo – _oof!_" Tony's words were knocked from his mouth as the plane abruptly began moving. All conversation ceased due to the noise, and then Gibbs advised the others to get some rest before leaning back and closing his eyes, Tony and McGee exchanged looks, shrugged and followed suit. They had an early and busy morning behind them and a long flight ahead; they needed to grab as much sleep as they could.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Ziva's second night was far worse than her first. Men appeared at frequent intervals, roughly waking her with their fists and hands, hitting and slapping her, grabbing her and forcing themselves onto and into her. She lost track of how many men there had been; some had visited more than once.

By the time sunbeams penetrated her cell, she was exhausted and in more pain than she had thought possible. _How am I still alive? _she wondered.

_Because you're a survivor, Ziva, _replied Gibbs' voice in her head. Gibbs would come for her; so would Tony and Tim. She had to hold on to that if she was to stand any chance of making it out of this place alive, if her captors were to fail in their attempts to break her.

Or had they already broken her? She could no longer be sure.

A deep, throaty chuckle returned her attention, a little hazy due to what she suspected to be a wound infection that was making her slightly feverish, to her immediate situation.

Mordechai. With Tzabar and a new man, one she recognised as Reuven Calev. She recalled the last time she had encountered Calev: in a physical combat training session a few months before her assignation to NCIS. She had triumphed easily, leaving Calev to nurse his wounded pride. Ziva swallowed hard in an attempt to fight the rising nausea. Calev was here to exact revenge on her. And she knew that he would ensure she was awake throughout the whole ordeal.

Calev crouched down in front of her, his face a mere few inches from hers and the cold metal of his knife pressing against her neck, and he hissed, "You _humiliated _me, David. Now it is my turn to humiliate _you_."

"You think it is possible to humiliate me even more than I already have been?" retorted Ziva bitterly.

Calev grinned. "There's only one way to find out, then, isn't there?" He twirled the knife in his fingers, then lowered it to the floor, handle facing her. Ziva stiffened and felt sick, knowing what was coming – she had seen it before, though never had she imagined it happening to her. She was unable to prevent a gasp of pain from escaping as the knife handle was pushed into her, tears falling freely and unchecked now. Calev saw this and laughed to himself. Ziva closed her eyes and but her lip to hold back any sound that might attempt to slip unbidden past her lips. The relative bliss of unconsciousness eluded her, though, and she was forced to endure everything Calev, and then some of the others, did to her. _This, _she thought despairingly, _is worse than Somalia._

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

TBC


	9. On The Ground

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Thank you for the reviews!

As the crow flies, according to various distance-measuring tools online, the distance from Mitspe Ramon to the border with Jordan is about 25 miles.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Chapter 9: On the Ground

The violent landing of the military plane woke Tony and McGee abruptly from their awkward slumber. Gibbs was already awake and looking, to the great irritation of the other two, far too well-rested.

"We're here," announced Gibbs. It only took a few minutes for the plane to stop, and for everyone and everything to be unloaded. Andrew Thompson, the lieutenant who met them, had been briefed on the situation; a conversation was held to update each other and formulate a plan.

"Mossad don't know you hacked into them?" asked Thompson anxiously.

"Covered it," McGee reassured him. "Managed to work it so that if they _do _realise they've been hacked, they'll think it was Hamas, Iran, any one of their enemies."

"Good. Do you have any possible locations as to Agent David's whereabouts?"

McGee nodded. "I used the –"

"Cut the geek-speak, McGee," interrupted Gibbs impatiently. "I've not had any coffee for _twelve hours_."

"Sorry, Boss," apologised McGee hastily. "From what I've been able to figure out, they're somewhere east of Mitspe Ramon. Can't be _too _far east, though, or they'd be in Jordan."

"Good work, Tim." Gibbs turned to the lieutenant. "How long will it take to get there?"

"At least four hours, sir."

"We sit down and work out how we're going to do this," decided Gibbs, "but first I need coffee."

"I'll get someone one it right away, sir." Thompson beckoned a nearby man over and sent him to get coffee for the three NCIS agents; he then escorted them to a nearby conference room, out of the blazing midday Middle-Eastern sun.

"Thank God for air-conditioning!" exclaimed Tony, claiming a chair right by the piece of equipment. "Aaaahhhh, _bliss_!"

Gibbs smiled wryly and McGee rolled his eyes, but both were quick to join them. Thompson snickered a little. "It is good, isn't it?" he remarked. "What's the plan?"

Tony growled. "I kill those bas –"

"Di_Nozzo_!" cut in Gibbs warningly.

"Sorry. Shutting up now, Boss."

Gibbs turned back to Thompson. "We need to know what you guys can provide us with. Men, vehicle, weapons, equipment. Then we get the details worked out."

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

An hour later, everything had been arranged and the NCIS agents, along with ten Marines, had packed the two vehicles they were taking with everything they needed and were being waved off by Thompson.

"Does anyone…_official _know we're here?" asked Tony nervously as the vehicle set off.

"What does he mean?" asked one of the Marines, Onuoha, indicating Tony.

McGee caught his drift and ticked them off on his fingers. "The Israeli government, Mossad generally, Mossad's director specifically."

"Why the director specifically?" asked Bartlett in confusion.

"The kidnapped agent is his daughter; she's ex-Mossad," explained Gibbs quietly, worry on his face. "Now, does everyone know what they're doing, when they're doing it and how they're doing it?"

His question was answered with a chorus of "Yes, sir," from the Marines.

"Good." He fell silent and drank from his coffee cup while they were still on a smooth road.

McGee met Tony's fear-filled eyes and placed a hand on his arm. "We'll find her, Tony. We got her from Somalia; we'll get her this time as well."

Tony gave him a weak smile. "I hope so, McOptimist. I hope so. I – _We _can't lose her again."

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

A bullet zipping through the window in Ziva's cell woke her from the doze she had been in. Her senses were instantly on full alert and her ears detected faint shouting and gunfire now that there was a hole in the window. "So much for the glass being bullet-proof," she muttered to herself. She shrugged wearily. Such sounds were all too common in Israel; she'd grown up surrounded by them. Maybe the battle outside would keep her captors occupied for a while and they wouldn't be able to visit her; it would certainly be a welcome relief.

A loud explosion nearby cracked the already-damaged window and she instinctively turned her face away to prevent any of the sharp fragments from hitting it. A moment later, words caught her attention and she tilted her ear towards the sound, frowning in concentration. Was that English she had just heard? No, it couldn't have been. Her team would not have been able to find this place so quickly.

Another explosion caused the solid, heavily-reinforced building to shudder. Shouts in Hebrew followed and she thought she made out the word, "Americans!"

Did she, could she dare hope? Had they really already got here? "No, Ziva, do _not _get your hopes up!" she ordered herself sternly. She couldn't afford for that to happen, only to have them dashed.

More gunfire, much closer. Then a voice that was unmistakeably that of one Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo screamed, "TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"

"Tony…" she gasped, her heart soaring. He was here; he was actually _here_! Which meant that somewhere nearby Gibbs and McGee also were.

Shouts, shrieks, shots and another explosion filled the air, definitely nearer than before. Things were kicking off and she was trapped here. If the building got hit…

Suddenly the door to her cell was flung open and Mordechai raced in, Tzabar and two others behind him. "Get her out of here!" ordered Mordechai, clearly panicked. "_Now_, you morons! Or I'll slit your guts and throw you to Hamas, Iran or Al-Qua'eda, whoever comes along first!"

Ziva found herself being violently yanked from the rings and she let out a cry of pain as they did so, her hips and shoulders on fire, and her wrists and ankles burning from the rope that still held her to the rings.

"PUT HER DOWN!" screamed Tony, sticking his head and gun through the window. It certainly made the others stop and stare at him in surprise and confusion.

Then Mordechai smirked. "There are four of us and one of you. Do you really think you can take us?"

A _click_ came from the doorway. "Three of us, not one," Gibbs calmly corrected him, his gun pointing straight at Mordechai's head. "And you've not included any of the ten Marines at my command in that, either."

A number of gunshots rang out through the room and all four Israeli men dropped to the ground with thuds. Mordechai and Tzabar were dead; the other two were writhing around, moaning and groaning in agony.

Ziva met Gibbs' eyes. "You came…" she whispered, her eyes and voice full of tears.

"Couldn't let my daughter get taken from me again," he said softly, dropping to the ground to be at the same level as her and using a previously-concealed knife to cut the ropes that bound her. Unable to hold herself up, she tumbled into his arms, the tears falling freely now. He held her gently yet firmly. "Let's get you out of here." When she nodded, he carefully swung her up into his arms and slowly, painfully, she put her arms around his neck and locked her fingers together, her body shaking with sobs of pain, exhaustion, humiliation and relief.

"What do we do with these two, Boss?" asked McGee, indicating the two men who were still alive.

"Leave 'em."

McGee nodded and followed Gibbs out of the room, slamming the cell door shut behind them. The Marines would cover them as they got Ziva to the waiting vehicle; Tony met them outside. He opened his mouth to speak but Gibbs shook his head. "Back at the base, DiNozzo," he said quietly.

They stepped out into the open and dashed for the getaway truck, ensuring they got Ziva in carefully to minimise aggravation to her injuries_. _It had not escaped the attention that she was almost entirely naked, the remnants of the clothes she had been wearing the night of her kidnapping hanging off her horribly damaged body, the scars from Somalia still painfully visible. Somehow she had fallen asleep in Gibbs' arms and nobody wanted to wake her. When they reached the truck, McGee and Tony helped Gibbs to wrap her in sheets and blankets to cover her.

The ride back was silent. Ziva seemed to be more unconscious than asleep, and Tony and McGee struggled with their own emotions, all too aware of the similarities between this and Somalia. It hurt them badly to see Ziva so damaged, so broken, again. The occasional glances passed between them and Gibbs were all the communication they used, but it was all they needed.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

TBC


	10. Looking After The Kids

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Penultimate chapter!

As the crow flies, according to various distance-measuring tools online, the distance from Mitspe Ramon to the border with Jordan is about 25 miles.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Chapter 10: Looking After The Kids

Four hours later they arrived back in Haifa. As the truck drew to a stop, Ziva stirred. She immediately stiffened and scrambled out of Gibbs' arms in a panic, her breathing and heart rate rapidly escalating. The other two exchanged anxious looks and got out, recognising that Gibbs was the best one to deal with this.

Ziva was shaking and Gibbs knew that the fever he'd detected was affecting her ability to think clearly; she would be seeing her captors and whatever vehicle they'd transported her in, rather than him and the other Americans. He cautiously held out a hand to her, unsure of how she would react. "Ziva, it's okay, it's me, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You're safe now."

She blinked slowly, trying to focus on him. "I – I am safe?" When he nodded, she gave him a small smile. "Where am I?"

"The Navy base in Haifa. It's almost midnight; the doctors here are going to fix you up and then we go home. _Home_, Ziva. With us."

She lifted her head a little. "Home…Home is good…" Her eyes widened in alarm and she froze. "Home is where they took me…"

"You can stay with me for a while if you like."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I do not want to be a burden."

Gibbs shook his head and smiled kindly. "No burden. You're one of my kids; I'll do anything for my kids."

A sob caught in Ziva's throat. "You – you will?"

"Absolutely. C'mon, let's get you looked at."

Ziva nodded obediently and slowly, shakily, moved forwards to his outstretched hand. She felt Gibbs squeeze her hand as he helped her down from the truck; as her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled and she fell. Gibbs caught her and swung her up into his arms, whispering soothing words the whole time, right into the infirmary, which thankfully was close by.

When he put her down on the bed, she grabbed his hand tightly/ "Please – please do not go, Abba!" she pleaded desperately.

The female doctor frowned. "Agent Gibbs? I thought her father was the director of Mossad?"

"My team are a family, Doctor," explained Gibbs. He lovingly ruffled Ziva's hair. "Someone's got to look out for these kids."

"Of course. I understand." The doctor commenced the physical exam, which quickly reduced Ziva to broken, heartwrenching sobs. It tore Gibbs' heart to see such a strong person so broken, even more so because of what she had already been through. Somalia came to mind again.

The examination seemed to take hours and by the end of it Ziva was drifting in and out of consciousness. Gibbs gently lay her down and tucked her in like he had done with Kelly so often when she had still been alive, and the doctor hooked her patient up to various IVs and wires.

"Agent Gibbs," said the doctor quietly, "we need to keep her here for a few days while she recovers. She has a fever from a number of infected wounds, she's seriously dehydrated and has barely had any food probably since before she was taken."

"I want to take her back in the morning."

"Agent Gibbs, I don't think –"

"She'll be safer back in Washington than she is here. You know who her father is."

"Fine. I'll call Bethesda and organise a transfer. Do you want to stay with her tonight?"

Gibbs nodded. "Gotta look after my kids. Oh, Doc?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure DiNozzo gets those glass wounds seen to. And tell him it's a direct order from me if he tries to give you any trouble."

"Yes, sir." She turned and left.

Gibbs sat down in the chair beside the bed and took the now-sleeping (possibly sedated) Ziva's hand in his and rested his head on the mattress. He wasn't going to let any more harm come to his family if he could help it.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Lt. Thompson shook Gibbs awake. "Zero-seven-hundred hours, Agent Gibbs. Your plane back is waiting for you. Here's your coffee," he added, a slight twinkle in his eye.

Groaning as his sore, stiff muscles protested against movement, Gibbs sat up and accepted the coffee. "Where are my agents?"

Thompson smirked. "McGee had to throw cold water over DiNozzo to wake him up. Bit of a drama queen, that DiNozzo."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You have no idea." He looked over at Ziva, who was deeply asleep, which was probably the best thing for her.

"Sir, we're sending Dr. Sanderson with you on the flight, just to keep an eye on Agent David's condition," Thompson informed him, inclining his head towards the door as the doctor treating Ziva walked in.

"I don't think there's anything we need to worry about," Dr. Sanderson added calmly, "but someone needs to keep an eye on her and continue her treatment."

"Let's go, then," said Gibbs briskly. "I want to get her home ASAP. The longer we're here, the more likely Mossad is to catch up to us." He looked at Thompson. "Get DiNozzo and McGee out to the plane."

"Certainly, sir," replied the lieutenant and left to get the two agents. They were to fly back on the plane they had arrived in; Gibbs was flying back in the medical plane with Ziva.

Movement from Ziva caused Gibbs and Dr. Sanderson to turn their attention to her, just as her eyes fluttered open. "I – I am in the hospital?" she asked.

"Yes," Gibbs told her. "And we're going home – Hey! Lie down!"

"But if we are leaving…"

"Medical plane. You don't leave this bed, you hear me, Agent David? That's an order."

With surprisingly little protest, Ziva obeyed. "I knew you would come," she said softly as three uniformed men appeared to take her out to the plane. She squeezed Gibbs' hand and met his eyes. "Thank you."

"Anything for my kids," he reminded her, placing a gently kiss on his surrogate daughter's forehead. "How're you doing?"

"Better, I think."

"Good."

"Tony? Tim?"

"DiNozzo's wet and probably plotting revenge on McGee for waking him up with cold water."

Ziva smiled in amusement. "That does not surprise me." She winced as the staff began to move her bed. "Stay with me?"

"All the way home, kid. All the way home."

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Ziva found herself jolted awake when the plane touched down and she let out a small gasp of pain. She reached out for Gibbs' hand and clung tightly to it. He brushed her hair back from her eyes. "Ready to face a welcoming committee?" he asked. Vance had texted him to say that they would be waiting at the base.

She nodded. "Do they – do they know everything that was done to me?" she whispered, fighting back tears of shame as she remembered what had been done to her. During the flight, Gibbs had told her about the photos and video that he had received; it had made her feel sick and she had spent a good hour sobbing into him, broken, violated and deeply shamed.

"They know," Gibbs told her quietly.

"How can I face them? They – they know what was done…"

"You can," he told her firmly, cupping her face in his hands. "Ziva, remember there isn't the same stigma attached .They don't think any less of you. They love you regardless of what was done to you; they just want to have you back alive." He held her tightly as she broke down in tears, letting her cry as much as she needed to. Dr. Sanderson watched from her seat, silently keeping an eye on her patient.

Eventually Ziva's tears were spent and she fell back onto her bed, wiping the last remaining tears from her face. "I – I am ready," she said. "Now, let us see if Tony has killed Tim yet."

The door opened and on the tarmac stood Abby, Palmer, Ducky and Vance. When Ziva had been wheeled out of the plane, Abby came bounding up to her and threw her arms around Ziva. "You're back, you're back, you're _back_!" she exclaimed delightedly.

"Air…" gasped Ziva.

Abby hastily released her. "Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'm just so glad you're back and safe!"

Ziva smiled weakly as she lay back. "I know. I am just a little delicate at this moment. I am going to be in hospital for a few days, while I recover."

"I'll come and see you every day," Abby promised. She pulled something grey and fluffy from her bag and handed it to Ziva. "Bert wants to keep you company."

With a warm smile, Ziva happily accepted the farting hippo. "I appreciate that," she said as Abby disentangled herself from the various lines and wires attached to her.

Ducky stepped forward and took her hand. "I'm so glad you're back, dear girl," he said. "Promise me you'll be good and do what the doctors say?"

Ziva glanced at Gibbs, who gave her a stern look, and nodded. "I promise, Ducky."

The ME smiled. "Good."

Slightly awkwardly, Palmer approached, a lumpy parcel in his hands. "This is from me and Breena," he told her as he gave it to her.

Ziva bit her lip, overwhelmed by the love and care that everyone was showing her. She smiled through the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she unwrapped the parcel, revealing a fluffy ginger cat toy. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging it close to her. "Both of you."

"You're welcome," replied Palmer. "We missed you; it's good to have you back."

Vance approached her and smiled. "It's good to have you back, Agent David."

Ziva's eyes darkened. "What about…?"

"I'll handle Eli," Vance assured her. "I've been in discussions with Fornell about possible charges we could bring against him. Don't worry yourself about it, you hear me?"

Ziva nodded. Fatigue washed over her and she lay down again. Dr. Sanderson saw this and decided to take charge. "Is the ambulance ready to take Ms David to Bethesda?" she asked.

"Just the other side of the building," Vance informed her. "Gibbs, McGee, DiNozzo, my office for a debrief."

"Can I stay with her?" asked Abby. "Pleeeeeeeeease?"

Dr. Sanderson nodded. "As long as you're quiet."

"I promise."

Ziva smiled weakly and reached for her friend's hand. When she felt it, she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. It felt wonderful after being held captive. She was vaguely aware of her bed being moved and moments later she had fallen asleep again.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

TBC


	11. Welcome Home

**Breaking Point**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

So, this is the final chapter. A huuuuuuuge thank-you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing; your support and comments are greatly appreciated. I'm planning to do a sequel to this fic at some point, dealing with the aftermath and consequences, mostly emotional, of the events of this story. I'm writing a post-season-9-finale fic at the moment; no idea what it'll be called, but keep an eye out for it! I won't be posting it until it's finished because it really annoys me when stories get abandoned partway through. The aim is to have it written in the next month, because once I start my MA (Creative Writing, part-time over 2 years) I highly doubt I'll have either the time or energy (thank-you, fibromyalgia and ME/CFS) to write fanfic during the MA.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

Chapter 11: Welcome Home

Four days later, Bethesda's doctors declared Ziva fit for release, on the condition that she stayed with Gibbs for a few days. It was that or stay in hospital for another week, and there was no way Ziva David was going to do _that_!

She was dressed and ready when Gibbs arrived, the discharge papers signed. Physically she was much better: the wound infections, the main reason for her several-day stay, had cleared up and the wounds themselves had improved substantially, though they were still painful and it would be another few days before the stitches could come out. They would scar, probably quite badly. She was glad that her clothing style consisted of loose, dark, long-sleeved items.

"Ready?" asked Gibbs, bringing her out of her thoughts. She nodded and he smiled. "Let's get you out of here."

She was silent as she followed him to his car, pulling her cardigan close around herself. Tomorrow she had an appointment with the psychiatrist at NCIS, the same one she had seen after her return from Somalia; Gibbs could tell that she was fretting about it and he was determined to keep her distracted. And Abby would not fail his expectations.

The drive was quiet, with Gibbs concentrating on driving gently and Ziva lightly dozing. When they arrived at his house, he helped her out of the car (she was still a little weak) and into the house.

"What is the plan?" she asked him as he unlocked the door.

"It's a nice day; I believe there's a paddling pool in the garden," he replied.

She blinked. "_You _have a paddling pool."

"Never said it was mine."

Comprehension dawned. "Abby."

"Yep."

She narrowed her eyes, "What is happening?" she asked suspiciously.

"You'll see. C'mon."

Obediently she followed him through the house and into his garden. When he opened the back door, she gasped and unbidden tears filled her eyes.

"WELCOME HOME, ZIVA!" everyone yelled. Abby and Breena were sitting in the paddling pool, Tony was by a delicious-smelling barbeque with Palmer helping, McGee was blowing up balloons and Ducky was sitting on a chair between the pool and the barbeque. A huge handmade banner proclaimed what they had just shouted. They were all grinning, Gibbs most of all.

Overwhelmed, Ziva leaned against Gibbs, who put a supportive arm around her. She wiped away a couple of stray tears and then smiled. "Thank you," she said quietly. "This – this means the world to me."

"I know," said Gibbs softly, "And you mean the world to us."

Ziva smiled through the now-falling tears, unable to speak due to the wave of emotions crashing over her. She was _home_, back with her family. She knew there would be hard times to come, dealing with everything that had been done to her – and she was expecting everything from Somalia to come back, too – but she knew that she would get through it. She broke free from the man she considered her _Abba_ and almost ran to the paddling pool, suddenly not caring that she was fully dressed, and hurled herself into it. Abby and Breena shrieked at the unexpected assault of water; when Ziva sat up, wet hair all over her face, they retaliated, splashing water at her, giggling as they did so. It wasn't long before McGee, Tony and Palmer joined them and a water fight ensued.

Before moving to take over the barbeque, Gibbs exchanged glances with Ducky. They had their family back together again and Ziva would heal. None of them could ask for more.

*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

The End!

I'll probably do a sequel at some point, dealing with the aftermath of everything that's happened; I'm not going to pretend that she's instantly OK again as soon as she returned because it doesn't work like that. I wanted to end on a happy note;


End file.
